


A Wish Your Heart Makes

by SeeWell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Caring Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Disney, Disney World & Disneyland, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 12, Sam Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:59:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWell/pseuds/SeeWell
Summary: Mary wants her boys to be happy. She's already managed to get Sam with Eileen. Now she's focusing on Dean and Cas. Mary (with help from Sam) convinces Cas to take Dean on a vacation. Fluff and feelings ensue.ORCas kidnaps Dean and takes him to Disney World. They get drunk and confess their feelings then make out.**Mary is back. No Lucifer-baby-mama-drama. Cas is at full power. Ain't nobody dead.**





	A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to kawaiikaikuu for the prompt! 
> 
> Prompt:   
> "Dean is forced to take a vacation from hunting by Sam, and he tells Cas to teleport him somewhere where the jerk could relax. Cas complies and sends him to somewhere amazingly...childish. Disneyland."
> 
> **My bad...I forgot it was Disneyland instead of Disney World...either way, childish antics ensue**
> 
> If you're following Grace, there will be an update soon.

Sam tosses his bag into the back of his car while Castiel watches him from the entrance to the bunker. 

“How long will you be gone?” asks Cas. 

“As long as it takes to clear my head,” answers Sam. “I’m going to pick up Eileen and head west until we run out of road.” 

“Presumably you’ll walk after that?” asks Cas. 

Sam sighs. “It’s an expression,” he answers. “We’re going to hang out on the beach for a while. Maybe I’ll learn how to surf or something.”

Cas nods. “That sounds nice.” 

“You should take Dean somewhere while I’m gone. Don’t let him sulk around the bunker.” 

“I’m sure he plans to spend his days killing things,” says Castiel. 

“Yeah, don’t let him do that. I mean, you shouldn’t do it either.” Sam makes sure his car is packed then shuts the door. He frowns as he examines the angel. “You guys should take a trip, too.” 

“But not a hunting trip?” 

“No. Do something fun. Go relax and try not to kill anything for a few days. Mom will take care of the bunker and any cases that come up. You guys should take some time off.” 

“Oh,” says Cas. “A vacation.” 

“Yeah.” Sam tucks his hair behind his ears. He talked to Mary about this earlier but neither of them could think of a way to present the idea without being obvious. They decided to pitch the idea to Castiel first. They’re hoping his inability to pick up on social cues will work to their advantage. 

“Where would we go?” 

Sam shrugs. “Somewhere that makes you guys happy. Just reconnect, you know? Work on your bond.” 

“The bond is more of a metaphor.”

“Relationship,” clarifies Sam. “Work on your relationship.” 

Cas sighs. “Historically that has proven to be a monumental task.” 

“Just give it a shot,” says Sam. “For me. You both need a break. Mom took one; Eileen and I are taking one. You and Dean need to do something together without a lot of pressure. Just hang out, you know? Relax and don’t worry about the world ending. We’re in a lull. You guys should take advantage of it.” 

Cas squints at him and tilts his head. 

Sam hopes he’s selling the plan without giving it away. “Ask Mom for ideas if you can’t think of anything.” He hesitates. Dean will never agree to a break. “Maybe, when you decided where you want to go, don’t tell Dean. Just, kind of, I don’t know. Maybe gently kidnap him.” 

“That’s a terrible idea.” 

“If he gets super pissed you can take him home. Just give it a shot. He likes surprises.”

Cas shakes his head. “Dean _hates_ surprises – even good surprises. Do you not remember when he found extra beer in the refrigerator last week? He said it was ‘bitch beer’ and he didn’t approve of it being in his kitchen.”

“That was different,” says Sam. “That was—It’s hard to explain. Just give it a shot. Take this.” He hands Cas a new credit card and fake ID. “Dean will bitch about money but this should cover it. It’s under a new name. The limit is high. It’s more than enough to cover the trip.” 

“Dean will not like this.”

“Dean needs this,” says Sam. “He won’t listen to anybody and you’re the only one who can actually force him to take a break.”

“I suppose I’ve done worse to him in the past.” 

“Give it a shot,” says Sam. He circles the car and opens the door. “For me,” he adds. He gets behind the wheel and shuts himself inside before Castiel has a chance to counter.

The angel furrows his brow and holds up a hand to wave goodbye.

Sam waves back and hits the road. He did the best he could. It’s in Mary’s hands now. He hits the gas and leaves the bunker behind him. He’s got Eileen and the open road ahead of him. 

* * * 

Mary hears the door close upstairs and peers around the corner. Castiel trudges down the steps frowning to himself. She takes a breath and tries to act casual. Beer in hand, she pretends she hasn’t been waiting for the angel. 

“Did Sam leave?” she asks.

“Yes,” answers Castiel.

She waits a moment to see if he will elaborate. Sam was hesitant to follow her plan and she’s not sure if he played his part. She’s tried to talk to Dean about his relationship with Castiel, but without much luck.

Castiel looks sideways at her. “Do you think Dean would enjoy a vacation?” he asks. 

She holds back a grin and nods emphatically. “Absolutely,” she answers. 

“Sam suggested I take Dean somewhere where he won’t have any incentive to kill things.”

“That’s a great idea,” says Mary. She can’t change the past, but she can make sure her boys have a happy future. She called Eileen for help on a hunt a few months ago and just happened to forget she’d also called her sons. She made up an excuse to partner with Dean and left the other two to investigate alone. A week later Mary invited her to the bunker to help research a case. A week after that Sam took Eileen out for coffee and Mary quietly celebrated their union by herself. 

She can’t tell if Dean knows what she’s doing. If he does, he hasn’t said anything. Sam caught on after his second date. Ultimately that worked to her advantage because Dean and Castiel were both stubborn and oblivious. 

“I don’t know where to go,” says Castiel. He rubs the back of his neck. “He enjoys pie. Is there a place with pie-related lodging and activities?” 

“You should do something that makes you both happy,” says Mary.

Castiel sighs. “I’ll need to do some research.” He leaves, again frowning to himself. 

Mary retrieves her phone and calls Sam.

“Are they gone?” he asks.

“No,” she answers, lowering her voice. “Castiel is trying to think of a place to go. Should I give him a suggestion?” 

“If they’re not gone by tomorrow, then yeah. You might have to force them out of the bunker.” 

“Are they always like this?”

“You mean dumb? Yeah, they’re always dumb.” 

“But they’re clearly meant to be together.”

“Yeah, well, good luck telling them that. Dean’s the king of denial and Cas can’t tell when someone’s flirting with him.” Sam snorts. “And if that’s not bad enough, they both get freaked out and quiet when the other one tries to say something real.”

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters. “We need a miracle.”

“Or a spell.”

“No,” she says. “Stop suggesting that. We’re not going to curse your brother.”

“Suit yourself,” says Sam. 

Mary sighs. “I’ll keep meddling. Thanks for your help.”

“Any time. Call me again if you get stuck.” 

“I will. Have fun with Eileen.”

They say their goodbyes and hang up. Mary goes to the library and finds the angel glaring at a laptop.

“Sam said I should surprise Dean. What do you recommend?” He doesn’t bother looking up when she approaches. 

“Surprise him,” she says, looking over his shoulder. She’s a little surprised when she sees the place Castiel has chosen. “Definitely surprise him.”

“In that case, we will be leaving shortly.” 

“I think you’ve made a good choice,” she says. “He’ll love it.” 

“This says it’s the happiest place on Earth,” says Castiel. “That’s a promising review.” 

“Let me know when you get there and be sure to send me pictures.” 

Castiel nods. “We will. Thank you for your help.” He purses his lips and pauses for a moment. “Goodbye, Mary.” He shakes her hand, then disappears.

* * *

Dean is at his desk attempting to scrub monster guts from the base of a dagger. He can’t remember what he killed that made such a mess but whatever it was, bits of it are now dried on the blade.

He hears the familiar flutter of wings behind him. “Hey Cas,” he says. “Can you mojo this thing clean? It’s a mes—” 

Suddenly Dean’s not in his room anymore and the dagger is gone. He’s standing in a suspiciously clean alley facing a busy walkway. Cas’ hand is on his shoulder. He turns to the angel. “Before I get mad,” he says, “you want to try to explain what the hell just happened?” 

“We’re on vacation,” he answers. 

“Dammit, Cas,” says Dean, shoving his hand away. “What did you do?” 

“Sam and your mother suggested you and I should take a break. Sam said to take you somewhere happy where you can’t kill anything.” 

“No,” says Dean. “Take me home.”

“I’ve thought about it,” says Cas. “I think it’s the right decision.” 

“How far away from the bunker are we?” 

“Far enough that you can’t walk back home.” 

Dean hears the sound of eager squeals as a group of children rush by on the walkway. “Where are we?” 

“A theme park,” answers Cas. “It’s called Walt Disney Wor—” 

“Son of a bitch.” Dean runs a hand over his face. “We’re leaving. We’ve got too much shit to do and this place is crawling with sticky brats and bat-shit crazy adults.” 

“This is a nice place,” says Cas. “Royalty lives here.” 

“Fuck me,” mutters Dean. “It’s a theme park. It’s all fake. People come here and pretend stupid fake things are stupid real things.” 

Cas looks to the crowd, then back at Dean and frowns. “I could take us somewhere else.” 

“Home,” says Dean. “Home is the only place I want to be.”

“Sam was very adamant about us going on vacation, specifically you.”

“I don’t have any clothes. We don’t have a place to stay. I didn’t even bring my wallet.” 

Cas retrieves a leather square from his pocket and hands it to Dean.

“Great,” mutters Dean. “Ok, so I’ve got my wallet. Now what?” 

“I think the Caribbean Resort looks nice.” 

“We can’t afford any of this.” 

Cas pulls a credit card and ID from his pocket. “Sam said to use this.” 

“We don’t have a car,” says Dean. “This place is huge.” 

“I can fly. We don’t need a car.” 

“I need clothes.” 

“We can buy clothes.”

“What about a hotel reservation?” 

“We can inquire about that now.” 

“For the love of god,” mutters Dean. At least he has his phone. He knows he could put up more of a fight. He knows he doesn’t need to google the resort hospitality number and call to make a reservation. He knows he shouldn’t buy passes and debate how many days they should stay and which rides will be the most fun. He’s never been here and Cas clearly has no idea what he’s doing. Dean is going to be the one who has to lead them through Tourist Hell. 

Nonetheless, about half an hour later, he and Cas check in to their hotel with park passes in hand. They’re staying at something called the Contemporary Resort because it looks clean and doesn’t seem to involve any Disney-themed nonsense. The room has two queen beds and it looks out over a lake.

The hotel staff is too cheery and there are too many damn buttons in the elevator. There are useless purple throw pillows on the beds and for some reason; Mickey Mouse’s face is emblazoned on the front. 

Cas holds up a pillow and points. “This is the park mascot,” he says.

“No shit.” 

“This place is very,” Cas furrows his brow as he looks around the room, “whimsical,” he finishes. 

“It’s Disney,” says Dean. “What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure.” He goes to the sliding glass doors and opens them. “Everything smells so different. I don’t think the lake below us is a natural body of water.” 

“Nothing here is natural,” says Dean. “I told you, it’s all fake.”

Cas frowns and his cheeks flush bright pink and for some reason, that expression goes straight to the soft spot in Dean’s heart. 

He sighs. He’s being a dick and Cas is just trying to help. “I guess it’s not _all_ fake,” he says. “I mean, the food’s real. The people are real. The rides are real.”

Cas bites his lip.

“C’mon,” says Dean. “I’ll introduce you to a princess.” 

* * *

Castiel takes them from their hotel room to the heart of the theme park. Dean isn’t interested in finding extra clothing or other essential items Castiel forgot to bring. Instead, the hunter finds a woman in a large blue gown standing near a castle. 

The woman is clearly someone of importance because her outfit is more formal and ornate than the people lining up to greet her. She’s obviously Disney royalty, and it takes him a moment to recognize her. When it’s their turn to stand with her, Dean pushes him forward and tells him to pose with her. 

Castiel shakes his head and Dean laughs. “You’ll be fine. Go stand with the princess.” 

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve interacted with human royalty,” hisses Castiel. 

“It’s a _costume_ , moron. Just smile and let the nice man take your picture.” He shoves Castiel toward the smiling blond woman. 

He stumbles forward. The princess bats her eyes and says something to him. He’s too busy trying to decide if he should bow to hear what she’s saying. 

“Smile, Cas,” shouts Dean.

A man with a tripod and camera takes his picture with the princess. 

Castiel mutters a thank you and hurries away, heat rising in his cheeks. 

Dean must have taken a photo on his phone because he’s looking at his screen and laughing. “You look like you’re standing with Freddy Krueger instead of Cinderella,” he says. He shows Castiel the image. 

“A lot of things happened very quickly,” he mutters.

“I’m sending this to Sam. He’ll think it’s hilarious.” 

Castiel feels the blush in cheeks deepen. Dean suddenly grabs his arm and points to a café. 

“I’m starving,” he says. “And I bet they have coffee. If I’m going to stay here, I need coffee.” 

Despite the fact that Castiel does not resist, Dean holds onto his arm until they’ve entered the restaurant. Usually, he only touches Castiel to pull him away from danger, point out something dangerous when they can’t speak, or to briefly embrace him once danger has passed. 

The waitress seats them at a booth and Dean orders drinks for them. His eyes linger on the woman as she walks away. 

“I’d rub that magic lamp any day,” says Dean, grinning. 

Castiel looks around at the light fixtures.

“No,” says Dean. “Not the lights. The girl. She’s hot. Her ass is the lamp. Get it? Because Disney stuff?”

Castiel tilts his head. 

“How are there still references you don’t get?” 

The waitress returns with two coffees and two glasses of water on a tray. She arranges the drinks on the table. 

Dean looks up at her as she hands him his mug. “Thanks,” he says, flashing a toothy grin. “Looks hot.” He pauses. “The coffee, I mean.” He winks. 

The waitress rolls her eyes. “It is,” she says. “Don’t burn yourself.” 

She leaves and Dean glares at his cup. 

“I understood that,” says Castiel. He’s proud for recognizing a flirtation, but another darker feeling accompanies his pride.

“I struck out,” mutters Dean.

“To be fair,” says Castiel, “you didn’t relay any particularly interesting information. Everyone knows coffee is hot.” 

“Oh my God,” says Dean, running a hand over his face.

“That was an ‘icebreaker’ wasn’t it? You were using a fact to engage her in a conversation that would lead to exchanging contact information?” 

“No. How are you so bad at this? I taught you to flirt.”

Castiel takes a sip of coffee. He doesn’t want it and it tastes like too many earthy things crammed together, but it excuses him from answering.

“I was trying to imply that she’s hot. Like, pretty, sexy – let her know I’m into her.”

“It didn’t work.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Dean. “She’s not into me.”

“Why not just tell her you find her attractive?” 

Someone giggles and they look up to see the waitress standing at the table again. She places menus in front of them. “I’ll be back to take your orders,” she says. 

Dean turns bright red and hides his face in his hands. “Kill me,” he mumbles. 

Castiel takes another sip of coffee.

They don’t talk much during their meal. When they leave, they wander without aim or purpose. Castiel sees a sign for something called Splash Mountain and vaguely remembers hearing about it.

“We should go on a ride,” he says. 

“I don’t do roller-coasters,” says Dean. “You can go by yourself it you want to, but I’m keeping my ass on the ground.” 

“Why?” 

“Because.” 

Castiel frowns, thinking. “I’ve heard of this ride before. It’s supposed to be immensely popular.” He must have learned about it from Metatron. “It’s a ride on the water, right?” 

“It’s a roller-coaster. The line is a million people long and yes, there’s water and falling. Heights, plus people, plus falling equals me tapping the Hell out.”

Castiel doesn’t mean to laugh, he really doesn’t. The sound comes out as more of a snort and he’s quick to cover his mouth with his hand. 

“What’s so funny?” asks Dean.

“Nothing,” answers Castiel quickly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Out with it.” 

Castiel bites his lip and finally takes his hand away. “You’re afraid of the ride,” he says.

“No. I’m—It’s—So?” Dean folds his arms over his chest. 

“You said yourself everything here is fake. Why are you afraid of a ride?” 

“Heights, Cas. I’m afraid of heights and heights are very real.” 

“But I can fly. You won’t be in any danger.”

“It’s not going to happen. I’m staying right here.”

“You might enjoy it. I’ve heard the ride very entertaining.” 

“No.” 

For some reason, Dean’s obstinace kills the giddy mood he was in a moment ago. “Fine,” says Castiel. “I’ll go alone.” He leaves Dean and forces himself not to look back as he approaches the attraction. 

* * *

Dean watches Cas walk away, knowing good and well he’s going to follow him. He takes a few seconds to pretend he’s fine with the angel going by himself, then quickly catches up and joins him in line.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” says Cas. 

“Yeah, well, here I am.” 

“You don’t have to. I’m fully capable of enjoying a ride alone.”

“I know you are.”

“Then why are you here?”

Dean sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. “ I just am. Don’t overthink it.” 

The line moves much faster than Dean hoped. All too soon an attendant is making sure they’re secured in the front row of a plastic log-shaped car. Dean grips the front of the car. There’s a five-year-old in one of the seats behind them and she’s eagerly discussing the ride with her father. Her father is telling her about the “big hill” at the end. 

Dean wedges himself in his seat with his back braced against the plastic.

“Perhaps this was a bad idea,” says Cas.

Dean knows the angel is looking at him but he can’t take his eyes away from the fake river in front of them. The ride starts with a lurch. It’s a blur of characters, colors and sounds and he can’t take in any of it. He’s too busy trying to prepare for the drop. 

Cas is still watching him so Dean glances at him and fakes a smile. He’s an adult. He’s been to Hell. Literally Hell. This is a ride. He’s in Disney World. He’s acting like a child. 

The lights dim and the ride picks up speed. Water splashes around them and the car quickly dips downward. Dean pretends it doesn’t bother him. It shouldn’t bother him. It’s fake. Everything’s fake.

“Was that the big hill?” asks the girl behind them.

“No,” answers her father. “It’s coming up. Hold on.” 

There’s a hand on Dean’s shoulder. It squeezes him then there’s an arm around him and the hand rests on the opposite shoulder. Cas is right beside him, holding him tight.

Dean shrugs him off. “I’m fine,” he hisses. He knows the people in the back rows are watching a grown man freak out on a fucking ride. 

“Close your eyes,” whispers Cas. He doesn’t move his arm. 

Dean closes his eyes. The ride slows and the car tilts upward. Cas’ grip tightens around him. 

“We’re going to fall,” says Cas. “I won’t let you go.” 

Dean nods and tries not to think about being humiliated and afraid at the same time. 

The ride seems to stop and he knows their car is teetering on the edge.

“I’ve got you,” says Cas. 

They fall. It’s quick and it feels like 90-degree drop. Water splashes into their car and Dean opens his eyes. Just like that it’s over and their little plastic log boat bobs along in the water.

Cas takes his arm away but stays close in the seat.

* * *

They exit the ride. A man holding a small child waves to them. Castiel doesn’t recognize him. Suddenly a little girl brushes past and he realizes the greeting wasn’t meant for him.

Another man appears beside him. “Sorry,” he says. “She’s still excited.”

“Understandably so,” says Castiel. Dean doesn’t seem to acknowledge him. 

“How long have you two been together?” asks the man. 

“Approximately ten years,” answers Castiel. 

Dean sputters. “We’re no—uh—not—uh.” He looks from Castiel to the stranger. 

“Sorry,” says the man. “Was that too nosey?” 

The little girl hurries back, dragging the man holding the toddler behind her. “We _have_ to go again,” she says. “I want to ride with Daddy this time. Papa can watch us.” 

“Daddy doesn’t like the big rides,” says the man. “How about we go find Ariel instead?” He nudges Castiel. “Mine doesn’t like roller-coasters either.” He smiles at Dean. “Congrats on ten years,” he says.

The family leaves with the little girl attempting to negotiate another ride.

Dean is pale and his mouth is sort of hanging open. 

“They were nice,” says Castiel.

“Gay,” says Dean. He coughs. “Cas they’re gay.”

“Ah. That explains the ‘Daddy’ and ‘Papa’ distinction.” 

“He was asking how long we’ve been _together_.”

“Ten years,” says Castiel. “Right?” 

“No, we’re not together.”

Castiel frowns.

“Like, you know, a couple. He was asking if we’re a couple.” 

“Oh,” says Castiel. He laughs. “In retrospect his question makes more sense.” 

Dean huffs, but he doesn’t argue. “I need to find clothes,” he says. “And some different shoes. I forgot how hot Florida is.”

“There’s a clothing store ahead of us,” says Castiel, pointing. 

“That’s for kids,” says Dean. “Zap me home real quick. I’ll grab some stuff for both of us. You can’t wander around the park in the same suit and coat for a week.” 

“Tell me what you need and I will collect the items and take them back to our room.” 

“Just take me with you. That’s easier.” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“There is a strong chance you won’t willingly return with me.” Castiel knows better than to grab Dean and teleport somewhere without warning. He does it anyway. Castiel takes them back to their hotel room. “Please wait for me here,” he says. He leaves before Dean can start yelling.

He arrives back at the bunker in Dean’s room. To his surprise, there are two duffle bags and a backpack sitting on Dean’s bed. There’s a note beside them. It simply reads: 

 _To Castiel and Dean. I figured you boys forgot to pack. Have fun and take lots of pictures! Love, Mom_  

Castiel collects the bags and the note and returns to the hotel. Dean has already started pacing. 

“That was fast,” he mutters. 

“It seems Mary packed for us.” 

Dean scowls and takes the bags from him. He arranges them on his bed and begins digging through the contents. “Clothes, sandals, sunscreen, toiletries, swim trunks. Jesus, I forgot I even own a pair of trunks.” He searches through the other bag. “Looks like my stuff is in both bags so you can take whichever one you want.” 

“I should take one?” 

“Yeah, you can’t wander around looking like that in this heat. I told you, it’s suspicious.” He checks the backpack. “Camera, chargers, laptop – damn, Mom thought of everything.” 

Castiel examines the bag closest to him. “How long have you been afraid of heights?” he asks.

“Long time,” answers Dean. “I’m going to change clothes then we can head back out to the park.” He grabbed a handful of clothes and shut himself in the bathroom. 

Castiel pulls one of Dean’s t-shirts from the bag. It is clean but it still smells like Dean beneath the scent of laundry detergent. For some reason Castiel drifts back to the moment on the ride when he was allowed to sit close and hold Dean. The memory makes him strangely lightheaded.

Dean emerges from the bathroom and Castiel completely loses his train of thought. The hunter is wearing a pair of loose-fitting blue shorts and a black t-shirt and he’s barefoot. “Your turn,” he says. “I know you don’t get hot but humans do. Pretend you need to dress for the weather.” 

Castiel nods and follows him with his eyes as the hunter passes. 

“What?” asks Dean. 

“I’ve never seen you wear anything like that,” he answers. He examines Dean’s toned legs and scans upwards, momentarily distracted by the way the t-shirt tightens over Dean’s pectoral muscles. When he finally makes it to Dean’s eyes, he realizes the hunter is blushing.

Dean clears his throat and shrugs. “It’s hot,” he says.

Castiel nods. “Yes, it is.” 

* * *

Dean pulls up a map of the parks on his laptop. Cas is quietly taking note of every roller-coaster they see. At first Dean wasn’t sure what he was doing, but then he caught a glimpse of the note Cas was writing to himself. Dean’s not sure how to tell him he’s not going on another ride. He decides to find liquor. Maybe that will help him stomach the idea of falling to his death again.

“There is a rock music ride in the Hollywood park,” says Cas.

“There are two problems with that ride,” says Dean. “One, Aerosmith. Two, look how high that fucking thing is.”

Cas huffs and tugs at the borrowed t-shirt he’s wearing. It fits him nicely, not that Dean will ever admit he notices. The angel is normally hidden under so many layers that he seems almost too exposed in shorts and a shirt. He hasn’t figured out yet why Mary packed for them or encouraged Cas to zap them away. She clearly went through his stash of disguises because half of the bags include items he’d never wear normally. 

Dressed as they are (with everything from cameras to flip-flops) they look like regular tourists. It’s not uncomfortable, but Dean hasn’t adjusted to it yet. 

“If you want me to get on another ride with a big drop,” says Dean, “then we need to find me some whiskey.” 

“Epcot,” says Cas. 

“You just know that?”

Cas’ hand is on his arm and suddenly they’re not in their room anymore. “You’ve _got_ to stop doing that without warning me first,” says Dean. They’re hidden in a shadowy area between two shops. 

“My apologies,” says Cas. He’s only half paying attention. He’s looking over Dean’s shoulder. “What is that?” He wanders away without waiting for an answer. 

Dean trails behind him. “What’s what?”

Cas points to a child holding a doll. “That doll looks like you,” he says. It has long blonde hair that’s braided and covered in flowers and it’s wearing a pinkish dress.

“That’s a girl,” says Dean. “A small teenage girl.”

“Your eyes are the same.”

“Her eyes are too big for her head. You trying to tell me something?” 

Cas ignores him. 

“Quit staring at the Barbie, You’re going to scare the kid.” 

“Where did she get it?” 

“Probably one of the gift shops.” He pulls Cas by the sleeve. “Focus. We’re here for booze. You can play princess later.” 

“Princess?” 

“The doll. It’s Rapunzel. You know, the one with the hair.” 

“Oh,” says Cas. “Yes, the story of the kidnapped child with excessive hair who is saved by a prince.” He frowns. “Why do you call Sam Rapunzel when you’re the one who looks like her?” 

“The hair,” says Dean. “He’s hairy—you know? Because long hair—just stop comparing me to the doll.”

“I’m comparing you to a princess.” 

“That’s not better.” 

Cas sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Forgive me for attempting to give you a compliment.” He gestures to a restaurant not far away. “That establishment will probably give you alcohol.”

Dean purses his lips and heads to the restaurant. Cas is right. They have liquor but he hits the drink maximum entirely too fast. It takes visits to three more bars before he’s buzzed enough to even consider getting on another ride. Cas wanders off after the second bar but meets back with Dean in Mexico for a shot of tequila.

Cas stumbles a bit as they leave and Dean catches him under the arm. 

“Oops,” mutters Cas. 

“Are you drunk?” asks Dean. He doesn’t smell like alcohol. “You’ve only had one shot. I thought it took a whole liquor store to get you wasted.” 

“Shh,” hisses Cas. 

“What did you do?”

“I decided it would be more efficient if we kept alcohol in our room. So I bough a lot.” He blinks and then throws his arm around Dean’s shoulder. “I drank a lot too.” 

Dean snorts. It’s not smart and he shouldn’t encourage him, but it’s damn sure entertaining. “You’ve got to at least act sober,” he says. “Don’t be so obvious.”

“Like you?” asks Cas. He glares and snarls his upper lip. “Better?” 

“I don’t look like that.”

“Am I scowling?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then yes,” says Cas. “You look like this. But I suppose, if I want to make this a more faithful interpretation, I should kill something then stomp around until I find something else to kill.” 

“Well fuck you very much, Drunkenstein. If you’re going to be me, I should be you, right? Maybe I should ask a million questions about humanity and still not understand how to tell a joke.” 

Cas leans in closer. “Dean,” he says, suddenly very serious. 

“What?” 

Cas tilts his head. “I don’t remember what I was going to say. Your eyes are very green.” His tongue darts out of his mouth and wets his lips. 

Dean can’t help but mimic the movement. Cas’ arm is still around his neck and he’s very much invading Dean’s personal space. It’s not the first time something like this has left Dean breathless. 

“I’ve always loved that color,” says Cas. “It’s the color of Earth – of creation.”

“Earth, huh?” says Dean. “Funny, I’ve always been partial to the color of the sky.” 

* * *

Castiel almost goes for it. The moment is right there and he’s almost certain he’s interpreting Dean’s signal correctly. His vessel has blue eyes. That has to be was Dean is referencing, but Castiel is rarely right about Dean’s references. 

Dean bites his lower lip and the skin blushes a deep pink. He puts his arm around Castiel’s waist and finally breaks eye contact. “Let’s check out that Aerosmith ride, or whatever it was called.”

Castiel transports them into the Hollywood themed park. His plan doesn’t go quite the way he imagined. The seats on this ride are different. Dean pulled away from him once they got in line and now Castiel doesn’t have an excuse to put his arm around him again.

Splash Mountain had bench seats and Castiel was able to sit right next to him when Dean was afraid. This ride appears to have large harness-like devices that strap people into their seats. He should have picked the Tower of Terror instead.

“Dean,” he says, “This ride does not appear to be as much fun as I thought it would. We can do something else, if you’d rather.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” says Dean. “After all the shit you gave me about Splash Mountain?” 

“I’m not scare, it just isn’t what I thought.” 

“We’ve waited this long, we might as well follow through.”

“Only if you want to.” 

“I do,” says Dean. 

They get to the front of the line and Dean eyes the seats, but he doesn’t comment. The ride is shaped like a car and Dean seems to enjoy that. He sits on the far side and they’re positioned as if they were riding in the Impala. There’s some space between them but they’re close enough that their knees and shoulders touch. 

The ride lurches forward and Dean licks his lips. “You going to hold my hand again if I get scared?” he asks.

He’s grinning and Castiel isn’t sure if he’s teasing him or not. Dean’s hands are free and Castiel’s gut tells him this is another signal. He takes Dean’s hand and holds it tight. The lighting for the ride makes it difficult to see, but he thinks Dean is blushing. 

The music is loud and everyone else in their car seems to know the songs, including Dean. Castiel is the only one not making noise. He’s much too preoccupied with the man beside him. The ride spins and drops and whips the passengers around loops and up hills. Dean lets go to hold onto his harness during the fast parts of the roller-coaster, but his hand always manages to find Castiel’s again.

Apparently the ride is only a few minutes long, but it time stretches itself while they’re in the car. Every time Dean touches him the moment drags and yet it’s simultaneously over too quickly. 

When the ride is over Dean lets go of him and Castiel’s hand feels cold and empty. As they leave Dean catches him staring. The hunter doesn’t say anything. His eyes flicker across Castiel’s face and he licks his lips.

The movement does something strange to Castiel’s chest. They walk in silence for a while. Dean mentions attractions he wants to visit tomorrow; they’re mostly related to Star Wars. It’s not particularly late, but Dean yawns and rubs his eyes. 

“I’m thinking we should head back to the room,” he says. “We can get room service, watch a movie and crash early so we can get up early tomorrow.” 

“Yes,” says Castiel. He’s still feeling the alcohol and it’s making him more decisive. His mind has very clearly settled on one goal. He wants to be closer to Dean. Castiel takes his hand and pulls them to a less public area then transports them back to the room. 

* * *

Cas’ thumb grazes over the back of Dean’s hand and Dean quickly sobers. There’s something so gentle and sincere about the movement. It freezes him from the inside out. Violence. Blood. Murder. Dean’s not built for tenderness. Cas’ hand is suddenly too hot so Dean pulls away. He crosses the room to stand in front of the sliding glass doors. He crosses his arms over his chest.

He shouldn’t have touched Cas or let the angel touch him. He should have pulled away during the first ride. 

“Dean?” 

He closes his eyes. “Yeah?” 

“Are you all right?” 

Cas always knows when Dean is sinking into his head. He’s like a bloodhound and Dean is always bleeding. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just admiring the view.” 

Cas approaches him with quiet footsteps on the carpet. He stands beside Dean and slides a hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder. “It’s a nice view,” he murmurs. 

It’s too much. Dean doesn’t deserve soft touches and whispered conversations. He doesn’t know why Cas is offering these things. 

“You’re troubled,” says Cas. “Your eyes are closed. You’re not even looking through the window.” 

Dean rubs his forehead. “I think those drinks are catching up to me,” he says. “Feeling a little dizzy.”

Cas touches two fingers to Dean’s temple without missing a beat. It helps. It always helps. At least Dean’s sober now. Cas is probably sober too. His hand slips back to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean clenches his jaw. It’s wrong. Everything about this is wrong; so wrong his skin is beginning to burn.

“We don’t get many moments like this,” says Cas.

Dean doesn’t dare respond. He knows exactly what Cas is implying, and it’s true. They never have moments like this.

“I suppose it’s easier when we’re inebriated,” he continues.

Dean closes his eyes again. He can’t have this. He can’t find love and happiness while people are still suffering, while his family is still so alone. Sam has Eileen now, that’s true, but there’s no guarantee she’ll survive the life. Mary lost her soulmate years ago. He knows Cas will be there until the bitter end. He wants more, wants everything with Cas – but he doesn’t deserve it.

If anyone deserves bliss and safety it’s Sam, not Dean. He’s got a long way to go before he’s worthy of anything more than another 40 years on the rack. 

Suddenly Cas turns to him, his forehead pressed into Dean’s shoulder. “Stop,” he says. “Please.” 

* * *

Castiel feels it as soon as Dean’s mind begins to spiral. He doesn’t invade, though technically it is within his power to find out exactly what the hunter is thinking. He feels the darkness taking root; blossoming beneath Dean’s skin. He sees the shadow looming over his friend. He gently tightens his hold on Dean and presses his forehead against his shoulder. “Stop,” he says. “Please.”

Dean clenches his jaw and gives no indication that he’s listening. Castiel doesn’t need to read Dean’s mind. He can guess what the other man is thinking. They don’t do vacations. They don’t take breaks. They don’t revel in the stolen, fragile peace before the next monster rises from some forbidden realm.

Maybe they aren’t worthy of this tenderness. Maybe the Gods will judge them. Maybe they’re teetering on the edge of another cosmic mistake. Maybe Castiel doesn’t care.

“Sam and Mary sent us away for a reason,” says Castiel. “Your family—our family thinks we need this—we deserve it.” 

Dean sighs and frowns at the view in front of them. 

Castiel decides he has nothing to lose. He slips around to stand in front of the hunter. He sets his hands on Dean’s waist and looks him in the eyes.

Dean blinks, but doesn’t pull back.

Castiel closes the distance between them, tucks his head beneath Dean’s chin and holds him as tight. 

It takes the hunter a moment to react, but when he does, he wraps his arms around Castiel and returns the embrace. It’s not enough to make up for years of sparse, rushed contact, but God, it feeds a part of Castiel he didn’t even know was hungry. He digs his fingers into Dean’s back and the hunter begins to rock them slowly from side to side. It’s not their first intimate moment, but it’s certainly the longest. 

They stay pressed together for several minutes before Dean finds an excuse to make a joke and pull away. Castiel doesn’t register the comment. He watches Dean find the room service menu and search for something to eat. 

“What do you want?” asks Dean. 

Castiel grits his teeth and nods to himself. One week. That’s not too much to ask. They’ve dedicated their lives to fighting for Earth. They can have one week. He retrieves a bottle of whiskey from the liquor he stashed away earlier. He pours a large glass for Dean and sets it on the table with the bottle. He then grabs an oversized bottle of something called Everclear. He pops the top and raises the bottle. 

Dean looks from his drink to Castiel’s bottle.

“One week,” says Castiel. “We’ve earned it. If we must be intoxicated in order to relax, then so be it.”

Dean hesitantly takes the glass in his hand. 

“After this, everything goes back to normal,” says Castiel. 

“A week,” echoes Dean. 

“One measly week,” confirms Castiel. “Statistically speaking it takes at least a few months for a problem to become so big it threatens the world. We can spare seven days.” 

Dean bites his lip. “All right,” he says. “Here’s to day one.” He clinks his glass against Castiel’s bottle and swallows his drink in one long gulp. 

While Castiel is still chugging, Dean pours himself another glass. 

“Everclear?” asks Dean, wrinkling his nose. “We’ve got to find you something better.” 

Castiel drains the bottle and sets it on the table with a little more force than intended. “The alcohol content is very high and, considering how much I need to consume, it’s a fiscally responsible purchase.” 

“Nothing about this is fiscally responsible.” 

Castiel waves his hand. “Just order your human food. I’ll worry about the liquor.” 

Dean drains his glass and Castiel goes for another bottle. He sits on the edge of the bed and squints at the television trying to find something to watch. 

Room service arrives sooner than expected, or perhaps he’s just lost track of time. Dean arranges the table so it’s in front of the television and Castiel starts the movie.

“I got you a burger and some fries,” says Dean. “I figure sober you only tastes molecules, but drunk you might actually taste cheese or something.” 

Castiel bites into the sandwich. “This is amazing,” he says. “You are a very smart man.”

Dean laughs and passes him a strange looking drink. “This is a milkshake,” he says. “Whipped cream and a cherry on top. You’re going to love it.” His eyes are heavy and it’s clear the whiskey has done its job. 

Castiel feels the effects as well. 

“Seriously,” says Dean, pointing to the screen, “Rapunzel?” 

“It’s called Tangled.”

Dean throws a French fry at him.

They finish eating just as the princess is leaving her tower for the first time. Dean is almost falling out of his chair. He stands, sways, then kicks his shoes off an collapses on the bed closest to the TV. 

Castiel decides to follow suit. His shoes are off and he’s about to stretch out on the other bed when Dean clears his throat.

“Just turn the TV towards me and, uh,” he slaps the empty space beside him. “You know. If you want to.” 

It’s remarkable how much they’ve agreed to without an actual discussion. Castiel waves his hand and the screen turns to face the bed. He flops down beside Dean and doesn’t hesitate to slide close to him.

Dean actually throws his arm around him. “What happens in Disney World stays in Disney World.”

“Agreed,” says Castiel.

* * *

Dean keeps reminding himself that no one needs to know what’s happening. It’s not like anyone else is in the room to see him sitting with Cas on a bed watching a princess movie. Plus they have a deal. This is their lost week. 

Cas wiggles closer and starts messing with Dean’s sleeve. They want the same thing, or at least, Dean thinks they do. 

“Any reason you’re trying to yank my sleeve off of my arm?” asks Dean. 

Cas huffs. “I was looking for something,” he says. “It’s not there.” 

“Something you lost in my shirt?” 

“The claim I left on your arm.” 

“Cla—oh your handprint? I think you healed that years ago.”

Cas glares at the skin he has now exposed. He places his palm against Dean’s shoulder. His expression softens. “I can feel it.” 

“Feel what?” 

“Where I claimed you.” 

“You’re going to need to define ‘claim.’” 

Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s arm again. “It tells the other angels I’m watching over you.” He inhales deeply. “I don’t think we’ve ever done this.” 

“Done what?” 

“Sat together, touched each other just because.” He moves his hand to Dean’s chest. “I didn’t realize this kind of touch had such a calming effect.” 

“Come here,” says Dean. He takes the angel’s hand and pulls him into his lap. Cas is sitting sideways with his legs perched over Dean’s thigh. “Just relax,” says Dean. He encourages Cas to lean into him and rest his head against Dean’s body. He cups Castiel’s jaw and runs his thumb over the soft skin. 

Cas’ fingertips trail back and forth over Dean’s chest. “This is very nice,” he says. 

“This is what normal people do in a relationship,” says Dean. Cas probably hasn’t done this before. He knows about making out and sex, but this is something different. He’s not sure anyone has ever held the angel. Dean nuzzles into his hair. “Partners are supposed to comfort each other,” says Dean. “They’re supposed to make time to touch; not for sex or quick hugs or whatever. They do it just because.” 

“Because it’s nice,” murmurs Cas. 

“Yeah,” says Dean. “Because it’s nice.” He moves his hand from Cas’ jaw and begins running his fingers over the bare skin of Cas’ arm. He keeps the pressure light, just fingertips. 

Cas shivers and curls closer.

One day away from the job, plus a shitload of liquor and Dean’s already teaching Cas how to cuddle and talking about romance and partnerships. He’s going to regret this when he sobers up.

Cas tilts his head and buries his nose against Dean’s neck. “I had no idea.” His lips brush against Dean’s skin as he speaks and his body relaxes. “What else do humans do when they are in a relationship?”

“I’m probably not the best one to ask,” answers Dean. “I haven’t been in too many real relationships.” 

“You know more than I do.” 

Dean sighs. “I guess people hold hands. They hold each other, tell each other secrets, fall asleep together, kiss, say nice things, sometimes they fight and sometimes they breakup. Sometimes they come back and apologize to each other. I don’t know,” he says. “I guess a relationship happens when two people decide to live their lives beside one another.” He can feel Cas smiling against his neck. 

“We live our lives beside each other,” he says.

“We do.”

Cas takes another deep breath. He drags his lips against Dean’s skin, making his way up his neck, then jaw until they’re face to face. Dean’s eyes flutter shut almost automatically. Cas presses his lips to Dean’s and cradles his cheek. It barely counts as a kiss. They’re really just finding new ways to close the distance between their bodies.

But then Cas’ lips part. Dean mimics him and hums as he tastes the angel for the first time. It’s better than all of his midnight fantasies combined. His hands roam over Cas’ body, slowly exploring the muscles of his back, the dips of his arms and shoulders, the soft, smooth skin of his neck and the rough stubble on his face. 

Cas moves away from Dean’s mouth, lips gliding down to his throat. Suddenly, briefly, he feels the angel’s tongue against his skin and he can only think in terms of Cas. 

He tangles his fingers in Cas’ hair and gently pulls his head back. He steals Cas’ move and drags his lips against his neck. He kisses the corners of his mouth and presses their lips together.

Without breaking contact, Cas repositions himself so he’s straddling Dean’s lap. His tongue licks at Dean’s lower lip.

Dean opens his mouth, licking back. He doesn’t throw himself into it. He wants this to last. He wants to spend the rest of the week slowly peeling away at the layers between them. He wants to take his time learning the angel’s body, learning how Cas likes to be kissed and held and satisfied.

They have an agreement; Dean’s going to make the most of it. 

* * *

Castiel wakes up entangled with Dean. It took everything he had not to strip them both naked just to feel Dean’s cock slide against his own. He’s transfixed by the prospect, but the hunter clearly wants to take his time. 

Castiel slips away from his companion as quietly as he can. He sneaks to the bathroom and shuts the door. He turns the shower on and waits for the water to become warm. He has a general idea. He’s seen this done in movies. Humans figured it out years ago and other animals have figured it out as well. Surely Castiel can figure it out. 

He steps out of his clothes then under the water. It’s warm, like Dean. Soap in hand he begins rubbing the bar over his body. He closes his eyes and imagine it’s Dean touching him. 

He licks his lips as one hand slides down to his thighs. His body is quick to respond. Tentative, he takes his erection in his hand. The first touch makes him gasp. He tightens his grip and tugs. This time he has to brace himself against the wall of the shower.

“Dean,” he whispers.

In his mind, the hunter is gripping him. His body is pressed behind Castiel and he is gently rocking his own erection against the flesh of Castiel’s ass.

Castiel bites his lip. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Dean does. He’s never seen Dean pleasure himself, though the temptation has always been strong. He hopes whatever technique he develops tonight, he’ll be able to use to please the hunter later in the week. 

He strokes his cock and resumes his fantasy. _Dean_ strokes his cock. _Dean_ rocks his hips against Castiel. _Dean_ clenches his fist just a little tighter and pumps his hand a little faster. 

Castiel squeezes his eyes tight and bites harder on his lip to keep himself from calling out. He rocks his hips into his own fist. He knows Dean’s body. He rebuilt it himself. He knows every beautiful inch of the man he loves. 

Behind him, his fantasy slides a finger between his cheeks. Dean presses his fingertip against Castiel’s entrance and begins massaging it in a slow circle. After far too much teasing, Dean slips his finger inside. 

Castiel moans and thrusts his hips harder. The heat in his belly builds entirely too quickly. His fantasy isn’t teasing him anymore. Dean has a white-knuckle grip on Castiel’s hips and he’s fucking him as hard as he can. 

Castiel comes and clamps his free hand over his mouth to quiet himself. His hips jerk forward and his body shakes. He slides to his knees; head down as the water sprays over his back. He should feel ashamed, perhaps disgusted with himself. He’s not even drunk. He was certainly tipsy earlier, but guzzling Everclear was mostly a show for Dean’s comfort. 

He should, perhaps, be a little bit sorry for imagining his friend like that. He’s not. He feels wonderful and Dean never needs to know. He cleans himself up and gets out of the shower. He wraps a towel around his waist and leaves the bathroom in search of pajamas. 

Dean’s scowling in his sleep and he’s wrapped himself around a pillow. Castiel grins and changes into sleep clothes. He towels-dries his hair, then carefully slips into bed beside the hunter. Considering the grip Dean has on the pillow, it’s remarkably easy to pry it away from him. 

“Hey Cas,” mutters Dean. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes. He shoves the pillow away and pulls the angel to him. “You smell good.”

“I took a shower,” says Castiel. 

“You don’t need to shower,” grumbles Dean.

“I don’t need to sleep either,” he says. He runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. Maybe this doesn’t have to be a vacation-only activity. No one needs to know where Castiel spends his nights. 

Dean cracks his eyes open. “Shower sounds nice. Might help me not be hungover in the morning.” 

Castiel lets grace flow from his hand and into Dean. He chases away the last remnants of alcohol and refreshes Dean’s body. The hunter’s eyes open a little wider. 

“I’m going to go shower,” he says. “Uh, you—you just do what you do.” He pulls away and hurries to the bathroom. 

Castiel scrubs his hands over his face. He should have seen that coming. He stares at the ceiling and waits for a newly sobered Dean to emerge from the bathroom. 

* * *

Dean hopes Cas has decided to sleep. He took as long as he could in the shower without being weird or suspiciously evasive. Not that it matters. Cas probably knows he’s freaking out. Cas always knows. 

At least he had the good sense to drag his duffle into the bathroom with him. Once he’s dry he changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He steadies himself with a deep breath and opens the door. The room is still dark and quiet. He might be able to crash on the other bed and avoid the impending catastrophe altogether. He sets his bag on the floor and creeps across the carpet. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might be asleep again.” 

Cas props himself up on his elbows. “You’re worried.” 

Dean rubs the back of his neck. 

“Come back to bed.” 

“Listen, I don’t—” 

Cas swings his legs over the side of the mattress and goes to Dean. He stands entirely too close, as usual, but this time his intentions are very clear. He slips one hand underneath the sleeve of Dean’s t-shirt and wraps his arm around Dean’s waist. Shadows blossom from his back and surround them. They grow darker and more tangible until Dean is so tightly cocooned he can’t see anything. 

Cas dips his head, lips brushing against his collarbone. “Come back to bed,” he whispers.

“Ok,” breathes Dean. He reaches out to touch the darkness. He already knows what he’s seeing. Cas brought out the big guns. His fingers brush against silken black feathers. 

Cas moves his hand to cup Dean’s jaw and he kisses him softly. He pulls Dean back to the bed. 

“This isn’t really fair,” says Dean. “How’s a man supposed to say no when you whip out wings?” 

“That was sort of the point,” says Cas. He settles down with his head resting against Dean’s chest and a wing stretched out like a cover. 

Dean can’t help but run his fingers through the feathers. They’re warm and soft and Cas responds to every touch. Dean reminds himself that they’re barely through day one and now, liquor isn’t even a viable excuse. They’re screwed and Dean’s kidding himself by saying this isn’t going to follow them back home. 

They wake up late the next day. It might be the longest Dean’s every slept in his life. He doesn’t move. He can’t. At some point in the night he entangled himself with Cas and now he can’t get up without disturbing the angel. He’s still covered by a massive black wing. 

Dean bites his lower lip as he runs his fingers over the arc of feathers on his chest. He keeps his touch light as he explores the wing. Cas hums in his sleep and he curls himself tighter against Dean. He grins and eases his fingers into the feathers. He can feel skin and muscle flexing at his touch. It’s yet another reminder that Cas is something sacred and strong. 

Cas’ fingers curl slowly against Dean’s chest and he hums again. Dean moves his other hand to the center of the angel’s back and begins massaging the space between his wings. Cas doesn’t even open his eyes. He tilts his head and his lips brush against Dean’s throat. He threads his fingers through Dean’s hair and his hips rock against Dean’s side. 

That’s good to know. Wings are a turn-on for both of them. He continues stroking the curve of the wing while his other hand teases the soft collection of feathers at the base. Cas is practically writhing against him. He lifts his head and catches Dean’s lips against his. Cas takes a shaky breath and his voice cracks as he whispers Dean’s name.

So much for taking it slow. Dean’s lost and he can’t remember the last time he was this hypnotized by someone. Cas is rutting against him, hard and desperate. “Dean,” he whispers. His hands are all over Dean’s body. One hand slips beneath Dean’s t-shirt and blunt fingernails drag down his chest. Dean arches his neck back and Cas latches onto his exposed throat. The angel moves on top of him and wedges his thigh between Dean’s legs as he rocks his erection against’ Dean’s hip. It’s not at all what Dean was expecting and he gasps in shock. 

“Are you all right?” asks Cas, panting. 

“Yeah,” breathes Dean. 

“Are you drunk?” asks Cas. “I don’t want you to fee—” The rest of his sentence is lost in a gasp as Dean digs his fingers deeper into soft feathers. 

“Been sober since you zapped me last night,” answers Dean between breaths. 

“And this is something you want?” 

“Stop talking.” It’s obviously something he wants. He can’t remember the last time he wanted someone this badly. He can’t say it though. There’s no rational reason for him to keep his mouth shut. Once they do this; once they commit, everything will change. It’s a leap and it’s inevitable. He might as well get it over with.

Cas stops moving against him. He places his hands on either side of Dean’s head and pushes himself up. “Is this something you want?” he asks.

“You know, chitchat is a real boner-killer.” He knows Cas is gearing up for something. He’s going to make Dean talk. He should have made them get up earlier. They should be out in the park right now. They’d be distracted by rides and food.

“This is serious,” says Cas. “I don’t want to be something you ‘power through’. This is a very significant moment for us.” 

“I never said I was trying to ‘power through’ anything.” 

“You didn’t have to. I know how you think.”

Dean scrubs his hands over his face. “I need a drink.” 

A chill sweeps through the room and the lights flicker. Cas’ wings disappear. 

“C’mon,” says Dean. “I didn’t mean it like that. We agreed that if we needed to drink in order to ‘relax’ we could.” 

Cas sits back, still straddling Dean’s hips. “You’re right,” he says, sighing. “My apologies.” 

* * *

Dean turns out to be right. Chitchat is indeed a “boner-killer.” The hunter has a glass of whiskey then becomes distracted by the breakfast section of the room service menu. Castiel no longer feels the urge to engage with him romantically. 

After a few drinks, Dean seems content to forget anything happened. Liquor has a frustratingly inconsistent impact on him. They end up visiting another park. It’s animal themed. There are more roller-coasters and “jungle” rides and Castiel feigns interest in all of it. He can’t stop hearing Dean’s voice in his head. 

 _Nut up and get it over with; just power through._  

Castiel hadn’t intended to hear Dean’s thoughts. The hunter doesn’t know it, but in times of great stress he regularly prays to Castiel. With his wings exposed and Dean so vulnerable, their connection had been much stronger than usual. It was almost impossible not to hear him. 

Dean is completely caught up in the ambiance of the park. Castiel follows him, feeling lost and dirty.

“We’ve got to do the jungle cruise thing,” says Dean. He slurs a bit as he speaks. Perhaps he had more to drink than Castiel realized. 

Castiel nods and follows him to the line. 

“Why’re you all quiet?” asks Dean. 

Castiel doesn’t know how to answer that. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” answers Castiel. 

“Something’s wrong.” 

“I’m fine,” says Castiel. 

“No you’re not.” 

Castiel huffs. “It’s difficult to articulate. I think I’ve pushed us—you too far. I feel,” he shakes his head and stares at the ground, “I feel disappointed with myself.” 

That seems to bring Dean back to himself somewhat. He lowers his voice and huddles closer to Castiel in the line. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” murmurs Castiel. “I was overeager. I didn’t mean to push you.”

Dean exhales and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t,” he whispers. “This,” he gestures between them, “is complicated. I know we said what happens here stays here, but we both know that’s bullshit. It’s going to follow us home.” 

Castiel bites his lip. “What if I want it to follow us home?” He looks up, searching Dean’s eyes and hoping against everything he seems something other than regret. 

Dean looks away. He pulls his hand back and licks his lips and stands quietly in line. 

Castiel sees the demons forming; the fiery barricade beginning to crackle and burn. Dean’s defenses are up and he’s shut himself away in his own private hell. Castiel wants, more than anything, to save him but he can’t. Dean doesn’t want him to. 

* * *

After another hour of pretending to enjoy the stupid park, Dean finds an excuse to slip away from Cas. He hides in a bathroom stall and prepares for a much-needed meltdown. He can’t have Cas. He doesn’t deserve him. He’s not ready. He can’t even put a name to what he’s feeling because his brain won’t stop screaming at him. It’s loud and shrill and it brings him to a halt. Cas and screaming. That’s all he gets. 

“Dean?” 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “I’m here.” 

“Oh,” says Cas. “All right.” 

Dean sighs and gives up. He leaves the stall. He washes his hands and splashes cool water on his face. Behind him, Cas already has two fingers raised and he’s scanning Dean’s body. 

“You drank too much,” he says. 

Dean drops his head. Water drips from his skin and into the sink. “I guess so,” he says. 

Cas’ fingers brush against his temple. His face and hands are dry and his head is finally quiet. He glances up and sees the angel backing away. Their eyes meet and Cas looks down. It’s not just a look, though. It’s quick and there’s something painful about it, like a dog that’s just been hit. 

“Cas, I’m—fuck. I’m sorry, man,” says Dean. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“You don’t need to apologize. We were both wrong.” 

He starts to turn away so Dean grabs him. “I don’t,” he begins. “Cas, I’m not—this isn’t—fuck it.” He pulls the angel into a kiss and clings to him.

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands and forces him to look at him. “I can’t do this,” he says. “I’m in love with you. You’re right; it won’t stay here. I have loved you for years and I will continue to love you once we return home.” There are tears brimming in his eyes. “I love you,” he says again. “So I can’t play this game. I can’t pretend we are indulging because we’re on vacation. You are not an indulgence. You are—” He shakes his head and tears fall. “You are everything to me.”

Dean closes his eyes tight. He’s too stupid and broken to know how to respond. When he opens his eyes again, Cas is gone. 

* * *

Castiel runs because he’s a coward. He tunes out all prayers and turns his phone off because he’s humiliated. He has to see Dean again. He can’t leave him stranded in Florida. He hasn’t gone far. He found a perch on top of the castle and has been there for the past two hours. He’s still reliving his stupid declaration over and over and over again.

Romance ruins human friendships. This is such common knowledge among their species that it has become a trope, a pop culture joke. He buries his face in his hands and wonders how he’s going to face his family after making such an egregious mistake. It takes a very loud, very invasive threat to pull him from his self-pity. 

Dean’s voice is amplified in his head. It’s more than a prayer and he has no idea what spell the hunter is using to get his attention. 

 _If you don’t get your ass back to our room in the next 30 seconds,_ says Dean, _I’m going to summon you. I’ve got the sigils drawn up and everything._

Castiel shakes his head as the echo fades. He braces himself and heads back to the hotel. 

His eyes are closed when he appears in the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose and waits. 

“Finally,” says Dean. “I’ve been trying like hell to get your attention. You can’t just tell a guy you love him then disappear.” 

“I can explain,” says Castiel. He cracks an eye open. For whatever reason squinting at Dean is less embarrassing. 

“No you can’t,” he says. “There’s no good explanation for ditching your date in a Disney World bathroom.”

Castiel huffs and opens his eyes. “You are not my date,” he says. 

“Yeah,” says Dean, “I am. I just—I need a minute. I don’t do the whole L-word thing. I mean, yeah in retrospect it’s kind of obvious. Sam knows. Mom knows—she thought you were my boyfriend at first. I don’t like to talk about it, but it’s all true.” He runs his hands through his hair and his eyes widen in a manic sort of way. 

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. 

“Nevermind,” says Dean. “This is fine. I can do this. It’s just words. I say words all the time. No big deal right? Power through.” 

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Stop saying that. I don’t know what aspect of being with me you have to ‘power through’ but if it causes you that much trouble, don’t bother.” 

“No, no,” says Dean quickly. “Not power through with you. I mean power through me—I’ve got a lot going on here.” He gestures vaguely at his head. “It’s not you, I swear. Being with you is easy.” He sighs. “Cas, you make everything so easy. I don’t—things aren’t supposed to be easy for me. I can’t explain it.” His eyes are watering and it’s his turn to cry. “Cas,” he says again, “I can’t—I can’t ‘settle down’ and be happy until Sammy’s happy. It’s not fair to him. This, whatever it is, this feeling should be Sam’s. He wants more than this shitty life and God knows he deserves it. I can’t stop until he’s happy; until I know he’s safe.” 

Castiel’s resolve fractures and he moves to comfort his friend. “Sam is safe and happy,” he says. 

“It can’t be me,” says Dean. “It’s not fair to him. It’s supposed to be Sam. It was always supposed to be Sam.”

“Sam is loved,” says Castiel. “And he’s with Eileen. They seem to be very content.”

“But how long is she going to last?” asks Dean. “People die. Everyone dies.”

Castiel takes Dean’s face in his hands again. “That’s true,” he says. “But soul mates fight for one another. How many times have you and I faced death and saved each other?” 

“I don’t’ know,” says Dean. “A lot.”

“What we have isn’t easy. We fight for it. When Sam finds someone he wants to fight for, he’ll do it. That person could be Eileen or it could be someone he’s yet to meet.” 

Dean twists his fists in Castiel’s shirt. “I’m always going to fight for you,” he says quietly. 

“I’m always going to fight for you, too.”

* * *

Dean licks his lips. His body is surging with a maddening combination of panic and adrenaline. He’s running himself in circles and he can’t stop. This is why he stores his bullshit in a box in the back of his mind. This is why he fights instead of talks. He’s never going to be they type of person who says what they’re feeling.

But he’s letting Cas lead the charge alone and that’s not what they do. They don’t abandon each other. He takes a shaky breath. “You’re in love with me,” he says. He’s not trying to torture Cas or embarrass him, but he’s drowning and he needs to stay afloat. 

“I am,” says Cas. 

Dean clenches his jaw and looks directly into the angel’s bright blue eyes. “I’m in love with you, too,” he says. “I—I love you so fucking much and I’m so sorry for all the shit you’ve had to go through. I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he says. “You are not obligated to return my affection.” 

Dean takes Cas’ hand away from his face and presses it against his chest. “Read me,” he says. “Scan me. Do whatever it is you do.” 

Cas squints at him for a moment, then his hand glitters with blue light. His grace is warm and comforting as it spreads through Dean’s chest. 

Dean pulls the angel into a kiss and tries to make him understand, to let him feel what Dean feels. It apparently works because Castiel gasps against his lips and pulls him into an almost crushing embrace. He kisses Dean back. His lips are strong and the grace within Dean pulses with joy. 

Cas breaks away. “You’ve got to stop torturing yourself.” 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“I’m serious,” he says. “This is madness. You deserve love. You deserve everything. For someone like you to want someone like me is—it’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever known.” He kisses Dean again, this time with renewed ferocity. The lights flicker and inky black feathers suddenly surround them.

Cas is consuming him, absorbing him, and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. “I love you,” says Cas. “Heaven pales in comparison to your light.”

“I love you, too,” says Dean. “I can’t say the nice flowery way you did, but it’s still true.” This is somehow the most intimate thing he’s ever done. He can’t remember the last time he held someone like this, like they could collapse in his arms and melt into him. For all the things he doesn’t have, for all the comforts missing in his life, he has so much more than anyone else. He has unwavering love he’ll never need to question, love he doesn’t deserve. 

He wants to tell Cas “thank you,” but for what, he’s not sure. Thank you for loving him. Thank you for not giving up. Thank you for being there. Thank you for being. 

He doesn’t realize they’re moving until the backs of his legs hit the bed and he falls. Cas falls with him, wings flared. Dean laughs and he’s not sure he’s every laughed in bed with anyone else. 

Cas kisses him then moves away so they can situate themselves more comfortably on the bed. He gathers Dean into his arms again, kissing with unspoken reverence.

Dean blushes. This isn’t sex and it’s not going to be sex. It might not ever be sex with Castiel. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he realizes this is what people mean when they talk about making love. The need to satisfy isn’t a motivation; it’s a pleasant side effect. He’s going to reiterate what he just said with his body. He’s going to worship Cas and make him feel safe and wanted and beautiful. He’s going to lose himself in Cas’ eyes and not feel compelled to explain himself. He’s going to create something physical that will echo their spiritual bond. He’s going to do this and it’s going to follow them home. It’s going to become a part of who they are; their shared history. 

* * *

The last person to touch Castiel like this was a reaper in disguise. She’d wanted to take something from him before killing him. She’d wanted to humiliate him; prove how far he fallen and how desperate he was to be wanted. 

He’s not worried about any of that now. Dean is fragile, trusting and vulnerable beneath him. He’s watching Castiel with wide eyes and a faint smile on his lips. His hunter is breathtaking, the ultimate amalgamation of divinity and humanity. The righteous man.

Dean lets his fingers trail down Castiel’s arm. He takes Castiel’s hand and presses his palm to his lips. Their fingers entwine and Castiel lowers himself against Dean and he’s warm. They’re both warm. His vessel responds to every touch, every breath, every soft moan. It grounds him. He’s suddenly not an alien in a borrowed body. His true form, the fiery blinding light of what he really is, flows out of him and into Dean and back into him again. For the first time he realizes this strange union of grace and flesh is him, this is what he is and who he was always meant to be. 

Dean kisses him, licks gently at the seam of his lips, eases his tongue into Castiel’s mouth. One hand dances around the base of his wing, tracing feathers and massaging into his skin. The other hand slips beneath the waistband of his shorts, then beneath the band of his boxers. He is embarrassingly hard and completely at Dean’s mercy. His hips jerk, seeking Dean and friction. The hunter is also hard and Castiel can’t hold back the gasp that escapes him as their members meet. 

Dean’s hand presses down on his lower back, encouraging him to thrust again. He does and Dean moans against his lips. 

“Clothes,” breathes Dean. 

Castiel snaps his fingers and their clothes are gone. 

Dean laughs. “I meant let’s get undressed but this is much easier.” 

“I can put them back on us,” offers Castiel. 

“Don’t you dare,” says Dean, capturing his lips once again. 

The hunter’s hands are everywhere now and their cocks are sliding together freely. Castiel isn’t going to last long. The skin on skin contact with Dean is decadent and obscene. His eyes are closed but he doesn’t need to see to know what they look like pressed together.

“Go slow,” whispers Dean. “I want to feel you.”

Castiel clings to Dean and buries his face against the hunter’s neck. He tries to force his hips to match the slow undulating rhythm of Dean’s pelvis. In his head, he’s imagining all the things he wants to do to the human; new ways to make him pant and moan. His sex education is lacking, but the internet can easily solve that problem. 

Dean digs his fingernails into Castiel’s back and nibbles at his earlobe. A hand finds its way into Castiel’s feathers and it makes his entire body shiver. No one has touched him like this. What is happening now belongs to Dean and Dean alone. 

He comes, holding the human as tight as he can. The skin between them becomes slicker and hotter. Dean massages deep into his feathers and slows his movements. Castiel shakes as he ruts against his oversensitive member. Part of him wants to stop and part of him is still craving more. 

Castiel bites his lip and presses his lips to Dean’s ear. “Don’t stop,” he breathes. 

“You sure?” pants Dean.

“Please,” he begs. 

Dean pulls him into a fierce kiss and thrusts faster. Their tongues slide together as they explore. Castiel tentatively presses his hips down and Dean moans into his mouth. The hunter tilts his head back, exposing his neck. 

A cry slips from Castiel’s lips. His grip is so tight he knows he’s going to leave bruises. Dean doesn’t stop. His breathing his heavy as he ruts into the slickness between them. His hips stutter and his movements become erratic, desperate. 

Darkness clouds the edges of Castiel’s vision. His cock is still hard. He latches onto Dean’s throat, sucking and biting, suddenly consumed with something human. Dean comes and Castiel feels the hunter’s muscles contract and spasm beneath him. Heat rolls through his body. The burn peaks low in his pelvis then suddenly bursts as he shakes through his second orgasm. 

It’s possible he blacks out for a moment. He’s not sure. There is a gentle hand in his hair and soft lips against his cheek. Eyes still closed, he finds Dean’s lips and presses his against them. They stay like that, bliss-drunk and delirious as they tremble through the aftershocks of sex together. 

* * *

Dean is still trembling as he holds the angel. Delirious, sated, and slightly dizzy, he can’t think of an equivalent sexual encounter. He breathes in the scent of his partner, then rolls them onto their sides so they’re lying face to face.

Cas is completely out of it. His eyes are half closed, his cheeks are bright pink and he’s got a goofy smile on his face.

Dean grins. “You want to mojo us clean?” 

“Hmm?” 

Dean laughs. “Never mind. Just stay put.” He wiggles free of the angel’s grip and retrieves a washcloth from the bathroom. He wets it with warm water and wipes himself down. He rinses it off then returns to help Cas. 

The angel is sprawled on the bed, still smiling and he reaches for Dean.

“Hang on, Sunshine,” he says. “Let’s get you fixed up first.”

He throws an arm over his face. “If you insist,” he mutters. 

Dean runs the cloth gently over Cas’ body. The angel hisses and bites his lip when Dean brushes against his cock. He resists the temptation to linger and torture Cas a bit more. Instead he finishes wiping him down and pulls the sheets up over him. 

He discards the washcloth in the sink and returns to bed. Cas latches onto him instantly. 

“I very much enjoyed that,” he says. 

“Ditto,” says Dean. 

“I know there are many ways for humans to pleasure one another,” mumbles Cas. He blinks slowly at Dean. “I want to do all them.” 

Dean laughs. “Ok,” he says.

“I want all of the sex things.”

“Noted,” says Dean, running his fingers through Cas’ hair. 

Cas sighs. “I feel amazing right now.” 

“You look amazing, too,” says Dean. 

Cas nuzzles against him. He brings a wing forward and drapes it over them. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says. “Obviously I never imagined this specifically, but I imagined various intimate encounters.” 

“Are you trying to tell me you fantasized about us?” 

“Fantasized,” says Cas, “yes, that’s the word. Thank you.” 

“Man you’re cute when you’re punch-drunk.” 

“Had I known all we need was several days alone, I would have contrived an excuse to make that happen a long time ago.” 

“I’m just happy it happened at all.”

Cas makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a giggle and noses against Dean’s shoulder. They may have accidentally found a way to make Cas fall asleep. The angel is warm and relaxed in his arms. Dean knows he’s going to fall asleep soon too. He knows when he wakes up he’ll still be with Cas. He’ll always be with Cas. They’ve been together for years. He smiles to himself. In a way, nothing has changed at all.


End file.
